I’ll let you in on a secret – each morning I wake at 7.30am. A civilised hour one could say. I’ve done the early morning starts and no doubt I’ll do some more, but for now 7.30am it is – and I don’t feel a bit guilty!
Awaiting me on my bedside table is a cleansing cup of hot water – the perfect way to start the day. It’s been placed there quietly by husband... he’s been up for a good half hour already and is well into his early morning routine of getting ready for the office. I use his 8am departure as reason to leave the house myself – in either walking or running shoes. A brisk 45minute run around the waterfront or a power walk around the Bay certainly gets the blood pumping.
But one morning this week was different. I awoke to husband leaning over me, quietly pulling the covers up underneath my chin. Sleep-clogged I couldn’t work out what was going on – yet I knew something was different. I felt dopey – and must have looked it too, much like a child does when you’re slowly waking them from a deep slumber, encouraging them to start a new day.
“Guess what’s outside,” he whispered to me. There could only be one answer to that... snow! And sure enough, a glimpse through the blinds showed a magical winter wonderland had settled.
There was going to be no use for running or walking shoes today – boots were in order. As we stepped outside, commuters before us had already paved a way down the pavement, but I didn’t want to follow in their footsteps. I wanted to walk where no-one had gone before... so I did. Right up to my ankles. In soft, oh so soft, powdery snow.
There’s always a stillness surrounding snow and this morning was no different. As snowflakes continued to fall upon us, we made our way slowly into town. Streetlamps wore snowcaps, boughs of branches bent towards us in greeting, and lying gently on top of budding blossoms was a fine layer of snow – a meeting of two seasons.
I left husband at the door to his office building and spent the next hour wandering the streets. By now there was more sign of life – more cars on the streets, buses, workers and students – the magic was starting to wear off, so I went in search of more. And found it in an extra hot chai tea latte and a bargain book table.
A bag of books later, I trudged home through the snow. I’m sure I broke all snow walking etiquette as I scuffed through the powder, knocking snow back onto the path shovels had but a moment before cleared. But the child in me – that snow so easily brings out – wanted to rebel.
And as I stepped back into the warmth of our apartment, tending to the more mundane of chores – hanging dripping jackets in the washroom, wiping snow covered bags, and dusting off my boots – I couldn’t help but to look outside at a magical winter wonderland, eyeing up the perfect spot to head back outside and make a snow angel.